


It's Trousers, not Pants!

by DancingLassie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: BAMF John, Crossover, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingLassie/pseuds/DancingLassie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times John helped/comforted the Avengers and the one time they helped and comforted him.</p><p>"He wore bland cardigans and jumpers, made an extortionate amount of tea, used words like ‘bollocks’ and blushed faintly whenever someone mentioned pants.  How was this guy supposed to replace Coulson?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gone within a week

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it! Should, of course, being writing an essay.

John Watson didn’t look like much.  In fact Tony had outright laughed in the poor man’s face when Nick Fury had introduced him to the Avengers as their new caretaker.  The other Avengers would have told Tony off for being rude, if they hadn’t been secretly agreeing with the mad billionaire.  John Watson was just so…

British.

He wore bland cardigans and jumpers, made an extortionate amount of tea, used words like ‘bollocks’ and blushed faintly whenever someone mentioned pants.  How was this guy supposed to replace Coulson? 

This was the other problem with the guy.  He was replacing Coulson!  No one could do that.  No one should even try.  Especially not a short British man with little fashion sense and a blog filled with imaginary adventures he supposedly had with his flatmate (who had jumped off a roof six months earlier).

The Avengers silently agreed that the man would be gone within a week.

Except one month later he was still there; despite living with them in the Avengers (previously Stark) Tower.  His first morning there he’d opened the fridge in the communal kitchen to discover the body of a dead chicken Thor had brought back from a trip (no one asked about the trip, agreeing it was best not to know).  Thor had insisted on leaving the carcass in the fridge to pluck, clean and cook later and no one, not even Steve, had dared argue with him.  The Thunder God had been so forlorn since returning from Asgard that no one dared do anything that might cause the slight smile he’d worn since the trip to vanish.

So when they saw Watson open the fridge and come face to beak with a dead and slightly mangled chicken they all held their breath, expecting screaming and a request for an immediate transfer.

Watson just blinked, surveyed the chicken critically for a moment and then reached past the body to fish out the butter that was lying behind it.  They all stared at him as he calmly buttered his toast before returning the butter to the fridge. 

That wasn’t the only incident.  When Clint got angry a few days after the bird incident and shot a dozen arrows at the living room wall all the British doctor did was sigh, call up a repairman from somewhere lower down in the tower and tell Clint calmly that the expense would be coming out of his next pay check, pointing out that there were perfectly serviceable training rooms if he needed to let off a little steam.

When Tony went for three days without sleep trying to perfect his latest invention, designed to try and detect any magic being used anywhere near or in the tower, everyone was at the end of his foul temper and sharp tongue.  Thor was almost in tears after Tony rounded on him and spent ten minutes tearing him to shreds, using the failed relationship with his brother against him.

“That’s enough,” Watson entered the room with a cup of coffee.  His voice was stern but his posture was mild mannered and his jumper was as fluffy as ever.  “There is no need to take your foul mood out on the rest of us.”

“Why not Doc?  What other use do you have around here?  One Eye just drops you off here one day and lets you freeload.  What possible use do you have here?  It’s not like we have any crimes to solve.  No wait… That wasn’t you, that was the other one.  Where is he by the way?”

The rest of the Avengers were silent, all cursing Tony silently in their heads.  Trying to figure out a way to get him to _stop talking_.  Because this is too low.  It’s one thing to yell at them, they’re all family in a weird way, but to pick on this poor guy and to use his dead friend against him.

Bruce was forced to leave the room to regain some control and Thor’s hand is flexing on Mjolnir.  Clint and Natasha faces were completely blank, but they were sharing looks that usually means they’re somehow telepathically agreeing on the best course of action to take someone out.  Steve was shaking with suppressed rage.  He hadn’t let being a short asthmatic weakling stop him from jumping to someone’s defence and he wasn’t about to let the poor doctor suffer.

Just as Steve was about to step forward and possibly punch Tony in the mouth, Dr Watson held out the mug of coffee.

“Fury offered me the job and my… acquaintance, Mycroft, accepted it for me.  Before I knew it I was here.  Anyway, I may not be able to build a supersuit, but I’m well versed in the art of making copious amounts of tea and coffee, so why don’t you drink it and get back to your important, world-saving inventions.”

Tony grumbled that someone at least has some sense as he grabs the proffered mug and drained the contents in one gulp without even saying ‘thank you’.  He took two steps towards his lab and then fell to the floor.  No one bothered to try and catch him.  They all stared at the doctor incredulously. 

“Sorry about that,” Watson rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, as though he hadn’t been on the receiving end of a verbal lashing that should have driven him to tears.  “That should knock him out for a few hours.  Who wants to carry him to his room?”

All the Avengers keep their distance after that.  It’s just too awkward to be around the British man.  Tony went out of his way to avoid him when he was reminded by Steve exactly what he'd said to the doctor.  For everyone else there was the awkwardness of waiting for a broken man to crumble while he did his best to display to the world that he’s coping.

So after a month Dr John Watson was still living at the Avengers tower and hadn’t run away screaming.  It was agreed that this was probably only because there hadn’t been any fights he’d had to get involved in yet; all the villains seem to be on holiday.  They all believed that when the fights began again then it wouldn’t be long before the doctor moved back to England.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John faces villain of the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this chapter much sooner but my computer died and took everything with it. Luckily some nice computer guys were able to resurrect it.

1.

Dr Watson almost missed the first major incident since he was hired.  The villain, some mad scientist type who felt underappreciated and so was going to take it out on the world, first by ridding it of the Avengers, broke into the tower during the doctor’s day off.

 It was horrifying how easily the madman managed to override the security and Tony was already listing all the upgrades he was going to make if they get out of this alive.  Poor J.A.R.V.I.S barely had time to warn them someone was coming up the elevator before his voice died. 

The man has the audacity to bring only one henchman for each of them with him, the reason becoming all too clear.  The entire tower was covered in explosives, enough to blow up anything in a fifty mile radius.  Thousands were going to die the moment he pushes the button, which he will do unless the Avengers come with him quietly.

There seemed to be little choice.  Better to spend some time in captivity and work out a plan from there, rather than risk all those people.  They were all very glad that Dr Watson had gone to visit a friend from med school that had moved to the States a few years ago.  Hopefully this would all be over before he got back.

Of course they had no such luck.  Just as they were tentatively moving towards the landing platform where a chopper was waiting the doors to the elevator give a little ping and slid open.  All turned to stare as Dr Watson steps out and glances around him, brow furrowing in confusion.

“What’s going on?” he asked the madman politely.  Tony resists the urge to snort.  Even in what could only be a hostile confrontation the man still managed to be polite.  However a cold sliver of fear was trickling down his spine and the rest of the Avengers seem to be experiencing the same thing.  This wasn’t your typical, skinny mad genius.  This one looked like he could survive a round with Thor.  He was about six foot and heavily muscled.

“Oh look, I’d heard the Avengers had gained a little pet,” the madman sneered as his goons laughed on cue. 

For the first time, they saw a flicker of anger creep into the doctor’s usually placid blue eyes.

“I’m not a pet,” he said coolly, and his tone was icy.  He had instantly straightened his usual relaxed stance, and now looked like he might be thinking about throwing a punch.  It could be considered threatening if it didn’t look so much like a bulldog facing off against a wolf.

“No?  Well you just stay here while your friends and I take a little trip.  Wouldn’t want you blown up now?”

Dr Watson’s eyes slide towards the remote in the guy’s hand and he makes the connection. His eyebrows rise and his mouth makes a silent ‘o’. 

“He gets it boys.  Let’s just add a bit of incentive for his friends to cooperate.  Jimmy, grab some of the spare explosives and we can wrap him in it.”

The Avengers are all trying desperately to think of a way to get the poor man out of this, considering just running straight into the chopper the mad man wanted them on in the hope he’ll forget about this plan.  They don’t make it one step before the villain let out a cry of pain.

The sight that greeted them when they turn is extraordinary.  The tall man is on the ground, writhing in pain, and being pinned down by the small form of Dr Watson, who had the remote safely clutched in his hand.  Once everyone sees this the henchmen don’t stand a chance.

Two hours later they’re sitting in one of S.H.I.E.L.Ds meeting rooms as they wait for the all clear to move back into the tower.  Fury debriefed them one hour ago and then left, but not before slapping the doctor on the back in what was supposed to be a friendly way.

“How?” Tony finally ventures what they were all wondering.

“What?” the doctor asked looking confused.

“How did you get that guy onto the floor?  He should have pounded you!”

“I may not have superpowers or deadly assassin skills, but I was in the army,” Watson pointed out defensively.

“As a doctor.”

“The Taliban didn’t decide to leave me alone because I was a doctor though.”

Bruce chuckled.  “Maybe we should send them a thank you.”

Watson laughed back before grimacing as he took a mouthful of badly brewed tea.

“You’ve kept your skills in shape,” Steve complimented.

“Well, running after London’s criminals does have its uses,” Watson chuckled fondly.  “And it was always useful to be able to tackle Sherlock whenever he ran head first into danger or insulted the wrong people.”

The mention of his dead friend almost killed the conversation, but surprisingly it was Natasha who made the effort to rekindle it by beginning a discussion on the quality of the combat training the army received now and discussing possible improvements.

The others occasionally piped in and by the time they get back to the tower Watson has become John.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor has had a bad day. John is willing to listen.

Thor was having a particularly bad day.  He’d just returned from a week in Asgard where nothing had gone right.  His brother had refused to talk to him when he went down to his cell, his mother had looked near tears the entire time he was there, his father had refused to talk about Loki at all which had only upset his mother more and the Lady Sif…

She had never been a fan of Loki and had taken some delight in his disgrace.  Not only that but she had admitted to Thor that she loved him and had not taken his rejection very well.   Thor had scratch mark and bruises to prove it.  He had wanted to go and seek comfort with Lady Jane but she was looking after Erik Selvig who had come down with the flu and Thor did not want to add to her burdens.

It troubled him that he was so eager to leave his old home.  Returning to Midgard had been a welcome relief.  However the tower had been in uproar when he got there.  Clint and Tony had been yelling at each other across the room and whenever Steve tried to interrupt they both rounded on him.  Bruce was trying to calm Tony, who ignored him and Natasha was nowhere in sight. 

The yelling was too much for Thor after his week away and he quickly darted back through the door he had just entered and tried to find solace in the peace of his room.  It wasn’t working too well.  The more he dwelled the angrier he got.  Angry at his brother for causing this misery, anger towards his father for refusing to acknowledge his own part in the mess, anger at Sif for refusing to understand that he would never cast his brother off completely, and anger at himself for being such a fool.

When he heard a soft knock at the door he forced himself not to wrench it open.  He had expected to find Steve Rogers on the other side but it was the Healer Watson, or John as everyone called him now.  He was carrying a pack of beer under his arm and some DVDs. 

“Hey, I er… Heard you were back and was wondering if you wanted a drink or something.  If you’d rather not then that’s fine.”  The man hastily assured him, perhaps he could sense Thor’s current mood. 

Thor contemplated the offer.  He was not really in the mood for company, but he felt bad at turning the man away.  John had been at the tower for some time now, but he and his comrades had misjudged the man and had only recently started making any real effort to get to know him.

“I fear I may not be pleasant company,” he admitted.  “However, I would not begrudge the company.  He let John inside and the two sat awkwardly on the couch with beers until Thor asked about the DVDs John had brought.

“Well, I heard that the others were trying to educate you on pop culture and I realised that you might end up with learning mostly American terms, so I have some British classics here.  Monty Python and Blackadder.”

“Is it about snakes?”  Thor asked confused.

“Err…  Never really thought of the titles like that.  They’re British comedy classics, no snakes as far as I can remember.”

They watched a funny show called the ‘Life of Brian’ and Thor laughed heartily at the bits he got and forgot his troubles for an hour or so.

“That was most amusing,” he told John after it had finished.  They had all the beer John had brought with him and John had rushed to the kitchen half way through the film for some more.  “We will have to watch another one when we have the next group film night.  We have not had one in a while.”  The last one they had, John had not been invited to, but he kindly didn’t mention this.

“That would be good.  I haven’t watched a film with anyone since Sherlock di-” John stopped talking abruptly and took a swig of beer.  Thor could see his left hand trembled involuntarily.  “Since Sherlock.”  John left it at that.

“He was your brother in arms?”  Thor questioned cautiously.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.  Suppose we definitely fought together.”  John looked round surreptitiously before leaning forward towards Thor.  “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered.  “But within twenty-four hours of meeting him I killed a man for him.”

Thor still couldn’t really imagine the good man in front of him killing anyone, but he insisted on hearing the full story and agreed that the ‘cabbie’, whatever that was, was definitely not a nice man.

“Your Sherlock sounds clever,” he told John as the man giggled over his memories of leaving the crime scene.

“He was brilliant,” John told him honestly.  “Completely brilliant.  Could be a right arse without even trying, but still.  I was the first person who told him he was incredible,” he told Thor sadly, giving the Thunder God a pair of wide hurt eyes over his beer bottle.  “No one else did.  They would tell him to piss off.  They just didn’t understand that he may be clever, but he had feelings too.  One of the police officers used to call him ‘Freak’ all the time.  I really hated it when she did that.  Though Sherlock would pretend that he didn’t care at all.”

That story hit a little too close to home for Thor.  His little brother had been brilliant.  Brilliantly smart, his skill with magic was a sight to behold, but he too had been called names and insulted for being different.  Thor himself was guilty of a few insults.  Would things have been different for Loki if he’d had a John?  Someone to assure him that he was amazing?

“Hey?”

Thor felt a cautious hand touch his arm and he realised he was shaking.

“Forgive me,” he told John.  “It has been a trying week.”

“Want to talk about it?” John asked, sitting next to Thor on the sofa instead of the chair he’d been in previously.

It all spilled out.  Once Thor started he couldn’t stop.  He told John everything, possibly including a few of Asgard’s state secrets.  He started with his childhood and how ignorant he’d been, wanting to kill all Frost Giants.  His childhood adventures in the sparring ring, how he grew up to be arrogant.  He talked about Loki.  How his brother had been shunned and teased mercilessly.

He told John all about his failed coronation and banishment.  How Loki fell and his subsequent attack on Midgard.  He told the doctor all about his visit home.  How he betrayed he felt by his father, how his kind and gentle mother refused to stand against her husband and would not join Thor in pleading for Loki.  Then he got to Sif.

“She called him a monster.  She said that she’d known he was evil long before we knew of his heritage.  Then she confessed she loved me.”

“Rather bad timing on her part,” John observed.  He’d stayed mostly silent throughout Thor’s confession, piping in only with an occasional observation.

“Indeed,” Thor agreed.  “I told her that even if she had not gravely insulted my brother, a _prince_ , I still could not return her feelings as I loved the Lady Jane.  Then she insulted the fair lady.”

“Oh no!”

“Yes.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her that she fought like a warrior but insisted on being addressed as the Lady Sif, however if she wished that title then perhaps she should show some of the qualities of a Lady, like kindness and compassion, qualities which Lady Jane has in abundance.”  A thought struck Thor.  “She should be like you.”

John snorted.  “Like me?”

“You are a warrior, you’ve proven so.  Yet you are polite and treat everyone fairly.  You are kind.”

“Thanks, though I think you just called me a lady.”

“I did not mean…”  Thor hastened to correct the insult, but John waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“It’s fine, you meant it as a compliment and I guess it is one.  How did Sif react?”

Thor held out his arms for John to inspect.  Long scratch marks marred them.  John whistled.  “I’d say you did the right thing turning her down.”

Thor shrugged and opened another beer, his throat dry from all the talking he just did.

“I’m sorry about your bother,” John told him sincerely.  “I mean, I know he tried to take over Earth, but you must have gone through hell when you thought he was dead, and to then find that he was alive and leading an army against us.  I’m just… sorry that you had to go through that.  I know you want to save him despite everything.”

It was too much.  No one had offered him their condolences for his brother before.  No one had made an effort to understand his view.  He grabbed the shorter man and pulled him into a giant bear hug.  Something may have cracked.

“I do not deserve your condolences,” he muttered into John’s shoulder as the man awkwardly patted him on the back.  “I have been a terrible brother.”

“You haven’t been that bad.”

“No, I have been awful.  I have been the worst brother in all the nine realms.”

John pulled away from him, looking him squarely in the eye.  “Did you tell your brother’s archenemy all about him so that his enemy could destroy him and force him to commit suicide having first destroyed his reputation?”

“No.”

“Then you are definitely not the worst brother in all the nine realms,” John assured him.

They end up watching ‘The Meaning of Life’ and Thor went to bed a lot happier than he had been.

The next morning there is another knock on his door and he opens it to find Jane.  She throws her arms around him the moment she sees him. 

“What are you doing here?  I thought you were nursing Erik Selvig.”

“Dr Watson turned up during the early hours of the morning.  He said you needed to see me and offered to look after Erik.  As I left he was enduring a game of Monopoly with Darcy.  The man’s a saint.  Now what’s happened?”

As Thor ushers her into his room he wonders what would be a suitable thank you gift for John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left a wonderful comment. Glad people are enjoying the story!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve suffers a blast from the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter!
> 
> On an unrelated note, I definitely lived up to my pen name this weekend. Good Lord, my legs hurt!

It was supposed to have been a simple mission.  S.H.I.E.L.D got wind of some suspicious activity around an abandoned research facility and sent Steve, Tony and Clint to sort it out.  It probably only really needed two of them at most, but this was part of the punishment John had assigned Tony and Clint for the argument they’d had a week ago that had destroyed at least half the living room. 

After putting them in separate rooms, the doctor had questioned them individually over the source of the argument.  When he found out it was over whether to watch soccer or football on the TV an alarming twitch had appeared over the British man’s right eye.  He’d placed them both in separate corners of the lounge and had them face the wall and think about what they’d done.  He’d threatened to tell Nick Fury what had really happened to his missing eye patch if they didn’t cooperate.

Both full grown men had dutifully stared at the wall for half an hour and then cleared the mess they’d made.  To fully drive home the inappropriateness of their actions, John had insisted that the two work together for the next month, but always in the presence of a babysitter.  Poor Steve had that duty today.

So here they were, surveying a lab that looked like it belonged in a bad horror film.  However, while it was old and grimy, the lab was suspiciously free of dust.  Someone was using it. 

They split up to look around the rest of the facility, keeping in radio contact at all times.  Steve was very tempted to take his ear piece out when Tony and Clint started humming creepy songs under their breaths and generally trying to get him to freak out.

He yelped as he rounded the corner and straight into someone.  He got a brief glimpse of some kind of gas mask before he was sprayed in the face with something that sent him reeling backwards, coughing. 

“See a rat, Captain?” Tony joked as Steve struggled to sit up. 

He was about to respond with his own scathing comment when he saw something out of the corner of his eye.  There was a figure in black, wearing and all too familiar mask and with a red insignia on his arm of a skull with tentacles coming from it.

Steve rolled back around the corner, flattening himself against the wall and risking a quick glance around the corner.  The HYDRA agent was still there.

“Iron Man, Hawkeye, we need to get out of here.  HYDRA’s behind this.  I’ve just seen an agent.”  He could feel a cold sweat forming on his forehead and he tried to keep his heavy, fear induced, breathing as quiet as possible.

“Shit,” Tony swore.  “Head back to the main lab.  We’ll meet there and get out of here.”

“Be careful!” Steve cautioned. 

Getting back to the lab was hell.  They were everywhere and Steve was forced to duck, hide and crawl his way slowly back to the lab.  His heart almost stopped when he heard Clint gasp and obviously dive for cover.

“I see them,” Hawkeye breathed.  “Good God there are loads of them.  I’m going to go through the air ducts, they’re blocking my way back to the lab.  Be careful guys.”

It took an eternity for Steve to get back to the main lab.  Tony was already there, looking anxious.

“Alright Captain?”

“No!  They’re everywhere.”

“I haven’t seen one,” Tony sounded confused, jumping as Clint dropped from the ceiling to stand next to him.  The archer was wide eyed and pale.

“We need to get out of here,” he told them, and the other two could see the cold sweat that had formed on his brow.  “If we don’t they could trap us in here.”

They started towards the doors, but only made it halfway there before Steve grabbed them and pulled them down behind a desk.  “We’re too late,” he whispered, his heart beating furiously against his ribs.  “We’re trapped.”

Clint and Tony peered cautiously over the top.

“Oh shit,” Clint muttered.

“There’s nothing there!” Tony complained, not bothering to keep his voice down.  Both Steve and Clint lunged for him and placed a hand over his mouth, shutting the genius up before he got them killed.

“Do you want to give away our position?” Steve hissed furiously.

“There’s no one to give our position too,” Tony mumbled through the hands covering his mouth.  The other two ignored him and began creeping towards a supply closet behind them, dragging Tony with them. 

Once they were safely enclosed inside they finally let go of Tony.

“We need to get out.  We need to contact the other Avengers.”

“You guys need a new pair of eyes,” Tony snapped.  “Stay here and I’ll go and call the others.”  He darted out the closet before the other two could object and took a deep breath, surveying the completely empty lab.

He rang the tower, relieved when someone picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” John answered.  Tony had never been so glad to hear him, his voice sounded like reality.

“We have a problem Doc.  Steve and Clint have lost it.”

“What?”

“We’re checking out an old research facility and those two are convinced it’s crawling with HYDRA agents.  There’s no one here Doc.  They’ve lost it.  They’re currently stuck in a closet, convinced they’re being hunted by HYDRA agents.  You need to send someone in.  Get Bruce here.  Thor or Natasha would do, but send someone sane.”

“OK,” the doctor assured him calmly, and Tony let out a sigh of relief.  The doctor was good to have in a crisis.  “Where are you?”

“Liberty, Indiana.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone.

“Doc?” Tony asked worriedly.

“Tony, listen to me very carefully.  Do you have the faceplate down on your armour?”

“Yes.”

“Then put it up immediately.”  John’s tone was firm and Tony did as he said straightaway, not asking why.

“OK, I’ve done that.  Now what?”

“Clint and Steve have been drugged, I’ve encountered this before.  We need to get them out.  Once we do the drug will wear off.”

“I don’t think they’re going to willingly leave the closet.”

“I’ve already sent Thor to you.  You need to stage a rescue.  When he gets there bang a few things about and then get them out.  Don’t drop your mask for any reason.  The drug is dispersed by gas.”

“Right,” Tony looked around helplessly.  “Mind staying on the line until Thor arrives?”

“Not at all,” John assured him.

“Right,” Tony tried not to sound nervous.  “So the great British cuppa?  What’s that all about?  Something to do with the water or something?”

John laughed.  “We make sure the water is boiling properly, not lukewarm.  If you don’t scald your tongue on the first sip then you’ve done it wrong.  Then we have decent selection of tea bags that we pour the boiling water over and we add milk.  Notice the word milk, not creamer, not lemon, milk.”

“If you get those two out of here I’ll make sure we’re never out of British tea bags or fresh milk,” Tony promised.

“I’ll hold you to that.  Thor should be with you soon.”

Tony nodded, though John couldn’t see him.  A movement caught his eye and he darted towards it.  His hands gabbed blindly in front of him as someone tried to spray him in the face with something.  He caught a wrist and twisted it until he heard a can drop to the floor.

Rubbing his face plate clean with his other arm he saw that he’d managed to catch a small woman in a gas mask.

“Steve, Clint.  I’ve caught our HYDRA agent.  If you run now then you can make it outside safely.  Wait for Thor when you get there.”

He heard them make a break for it and twisted his captive’s arm a little more.  “You are in big trouble,” he promised.

It turned out that the woman was Stacy O’Mara, daughter of Jack O’Mara.

“He was one of the original developers of the drug,” John informed Steve and Clint as they slumped tiredly over the kitchen table.  Tony leant against the kitchen counter, watching as the doctor prepared them all tea with the promised milk.

“It felt so real,” Steve shuddered and then winced as the first sip of tea burnt his tongue.  Tony took a tentative sip of his own and admitted that it wasn’t bad.  The slight burning feeling as it slid down his throat was actually rather satisfying.

“It does,” John agreed.  “She must have caught you fast.  You saw the gas mask and your brain instantly made the connection to HYDRA.  By the time Clint was dosed his mind already knew what to expect.”

Clint groaned pathetically into the table.

“Drink your tea,” Tony offered helpfully.  “It’ll make you feel better.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day can suck, even if you're an Avenger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been blown away by the response to this story! I'm so glad people like the way I've combined the two fandoms. 
> 
> The next chapter was tricky as I wanted to have John help Natasha, but she doesn't need protection and seems more likely to help him. It took me ages to think of what he could do for her that Clint and the other Avengers couldn't, or just didn't think to. It's a bit shorter, but more light-hearted than the last chapter.
> 
> Also needed to get more Bruce in there, because everything needs more Bruce!

It was so clichéd to hate Valentine’s Day when you were single, but that was how Natasha felt on February the fourteenth.  What made it worse was that almost everyone else seemed to have a date. 

Thor was fully embracing the Valentine’s Day spirit and was off to shower Jane in chocolate, flowers and romantic candlelit dinners.  Natasha would have hated the over the top cliché, romantic gestures if she’d been Jane, but she couldn’t help but be slightly envious.  No man she’s ever dated had been that devoted to her.

Tony and Pepper were in Miami, and the less thought about what they were doing the better.  Steve had finally worked up the courage to ask the pretty girl in the coffee shop he frequented on a date and he’d been anxiously fretting on where to take her and if he’d be able to get reservations until they pointed out to him that no place was going to pass up the chance of serving Captain America.

Clint even had a date!  He had picked a girl up at a bar a few weeks ago and had been casually seeing her ever since.  This had answered the unspoken question the rest of the tower’s occupants had about whether she and Clint were together.  

So here she was, an attractive and intelligent woman, alone on Valentine’s Day while the rest of her team had dates. 

Bruce chose that moment to enter the living room and Natasha was forced to rethink her last thought.  Bruce also didn’t have a date, though Natasha knew from her sources that he had received a card from one Betty Ross.  Still that didn’t seem to make him feel any less down about spending Valentine’s Day without her.  Natasha silently offered him the tub of ice cream she’d been working her way through and he silently accepted it.

There was a unanimous telepathic agreement not to talk about what the other one was doing staying in, and instead to just take some comfort on being alone together.  It wasn’t really working, they were both still feeling depressed. 

“Hey,” John walked in from the kitchen.  He had dressed up a bit Natasha noticed.  He was wearing a new shirt, smart trousers and his shoes had been polished. 

“Date?” Bruce asked, taking in the doctor’s appearance.  John was known to ask any relatively pretty and nice girl he met on a date.  Some said yes, a few agreed to a second date, none lasted longer than two weeks, though it always seemed to be a mutual split.

“Nope,” the doctor told them, far too cheerfully.  “Not yet anyway.  Was wondering if you two would like to go out with me?”

They both stared at him.

“You’re not gay and I have Betty,” Bruce told him, eyes wide.

“You find me attractive but realise nothing will ever happen between us,” Natasha added her bit.

“I don’t do threesomes either,” John told them.  “Still we could all sit here, eat far too much chocolate and ice cream and do the paperwork Fury insists on.  Or we could all go out together, three people who enjoy each other’s company, and have a good night.”

Natasha considered his point.  It was tempting.  She’d be out the tower and not allowed to wallow in her clichéd hatred. 

“Also, we could really mess with Tony’s head.”

That sells it for her.

“Give me twenty minutes to get ready,” she tells the guys before sauntering out towards her room.

“Oh, why not?” she hears Bruce mumble as she exits the kitchen.  Twenty minutes later and she’s received a shy smile from Bruce and several compliments from John.  If she was going out then she might as well make the effort which is why chose a nice little black number she’d been saving for a special occasion.

“So what’s the plan?” she asks as she takes John’s offered arm.

“Thought I’d keep this traditional seeing as the rest of the date isn’t.  Dinner, movie, then pub.”

Bruce walks on the other side of John, having put on a nice shirt and looked out a suit jacket.  “How are we going to find a restaurant with a free table?”

“Don’t worry,” John assures him.  “I know the cousin of an Italian place.  He was happy to squeeze in an extra table for us.  I’ve booked the movie tickets as well and I’m sure we’ll have no trouble finding a decent pub.  You both need to relax and enjoy the evening.  Trust me.”

Natasha takes a deep breath and decides to do just that.  She doesn’t regret it.

Mostly her dates fall into two categories: ridiculously expensive restaurant or ridiculously expensive extreme outdoor activity.  The former date is with men who don’t know her real occupation and the latter is usually with those who do and think she won’t enjoy any of the traditional stuff.

This is the first time she’s ever done anything like an ordinary date (despite being one third instead of one half of said date) and she finds herself enjoying it.  The food is good, though not ridiculously expensive or fancy, the movie is funny and she’s able to giggle at John over her glass of red wine at the pub, without worrying if he’ll start seeing her in a different light now that he knows she can do something as girly as giggle.  He even giggles with her as he pays Bruce many silly and flirty compliments.

Bruce rolls his eyes good naturedly and returns them, telling the British man that it would be easy to drown in his blue eyes.  The compliments John gives to Natasha are much more real, but he understands that they’re not going to get him anywhere.

He escorts them back to the tower and gives them both a kiss on the cheek before saying goodnight and stumbling (slightly drunkenly) towards his room.

Natasha reflects that it had turned into a pretty good Valentine’s Day.  Her mood improves the next morning when she sees Tony and John having breakfast in the kitchen.  She and Bruce bump into each other in the hallway and witness the sight of the doctor growing steadily redder as Tony tells him all about his day yesterday.

“So what about you Doc?” Tony gives the man a lewd eyebrow waggle.

“Thank you for last night,” Natasha swoops in and gives John a lingering kiss on the cheek.

“Yup,” Bruce plants one the other side of the doctor’s face.  “It was really special.”

They can’t look at each other as they walk back out the kitchen.  If they did they’d be on the floor laughing.  Behind them they can hear Tony choking on his cereal. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> London's calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! People really liked the last chapter.
> 
> Unfortunately this chapter is a lot of angst. The story is beginning to wrap up and I'm starting to set the scene for the final chapter. So I'm trying to keep some of the lightheartedness in there but prepare for some heavier scenes.

The Avengers are well aware of the many hate groups that are against them.  A new one seems to pop up every other week.  Usually they’re just a minor annoyance in the background, but occasionally someone takes it too far. 

One such person who has come to their attention is Adrian Moncur. Twenty-one, lives in the States for the last two years but from Britain where his family still lives and has been coming more and more aggressive in his hate for superheroes. 

When Fury receives a tip off that Moncur may be planning a terrorist attack at a Stark funded charity event, he immediately gets the permission he needs to send in the Avengers.  Except when they arrive at his apartment no one is home.  The flat is deserted.  Clothes have been removed from the wardrobe and dresser, and all personal items have been removed from the place.

A quick check of his credit card transactions show that he booked a flight back to England yesterday.  The Avengers are soon on their way.  While they are in the air Tony calls John to tell him where they’re going.

John himself had been in Scotland for the last two months.  A year ago his sister had got a job in Edinburgh, sorted out her drinking problem and got back together with her ex, Clara.  Two months ago the Avengers had arrived in the kitchen for breakfast to see John frantically rushing about, suitcase waiting by the lift.

Harry had phoned him, in tears, in the middle of the night to tell him that Clara had pancreatic cancer and didn’t have long left.  John had immediately phoned Fury and begged for some time off work to look after his sister who was at risk of falling off the wagon.

“Well, the funeral was two weeks ago,” John told them grimly over the phone when they asked if there was any chance of him being in London while they were there.  “I told Harry that I’d have to get back to work soon and we’re beginning to drive each other crazy anyway.  I’ll see if I can get a spot on a train.”

“Alright,” Tony rubbed his hands together gleefully after he’d hung up.  “Drinks are on the Doc tonight.”

A general feeling of relief swept through all the Avengers.  With John gone S.H.I.E.L.D had sent several temporary replacements.  None had lasted a week. 

Adrian Moncur’s family lived in a decent sized house in the suburbs of London.  It looked like a perfectly ordinary place that shouldn’t have been capable of producing a man that was willing to blow people up to make his point.

 When no one answered the door the Avengers were forced to knock it down and they entered the house cautiously.  A gruesome sight meets them.  Adrian Moncur and his family are all in the living room, covered in blood and none of them are breathing. 

It is horrific.  Moncur has been shot several times in the chest.  His younger sister’s neck has been snapped.  His mother is staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, a bullet having gone through her skull and, worst of all, his father is one pulverised, bloody mess on the floor.

The Avengers stumble out of the house feeling sick.  Steve is about to call Fury to let him know what they’ve found but he doesn’t get the chance.  The police are waiting for them outside.

“Thank God you guys are here,” Tony begins to tell them but he is cut off by a tired looking silver haired man.

“Tony Stark, you and your friends are under arrest for the murder of Adrian Moncur and his family.”

“Wait!”

“That wasn’t us!”

“We just got here!”

All the Avengers talk over each other furiously, gesticulating wildly and drawing a lot of attention to themselves from the neighbours who have come to see what the commotion is.  The silver haired man holds up his hand to silence them.

“We received an anonymous tip off.  One way or another I’ve got to arrest you and bring you in.”

Steve’s clenches his jaw grimly and Bruce looks close to accidently hulking out.  All the others are also tense, waiting for a giant fight to come.  Only it doesn’t and that is the problem.  They fight bad guys.  They don’t usually do things quietly.

“Look, I find it hard to believe this, so I’m giving you a choice.  Quietly get in the police cars and if you’re innocent we can spin this entire thing so it looks like your just acting as witnesses.  Otherwise we try and put you in handcuffs and that’s not going to look good.”

There’s not much of a choice.  They quietly get in the police cars and allow themselves to be driven to New Scotland Yard.  They’re put alone in separate rooms while the police look at the crime scene.  It begins to occur to each of them that they have likely been set up. 

They’re right.

When the policeman brings them all together his face is very grim, the set-up is very thorough.  Whoever framed them was able to imitate their weapons and fighting styles.  The bullets are the same type as the ones used in Captain America’s and Black Widow’s gun and the police even found a pair of Bruce’s shredded clothes.  Someone had thought this through.

“This is where you’re going to want a lawyer,” the man tells them. 

“Do we get a phone call?” Tony asks rudely, but his heart isn’t in it.  He looks like he might throw up.

A phone is passed to Bruce who hesitates.  He thinks about calling Fury, but then remembers the S.H.I.E.L.D agent who he knows is much closer and hopefully already on a train to London.

“Hello,” John picks up on the first ring.

“We have a problem,” Bruce tells him frankly.  “We’ve been framed for murder.”

There’s complete silence on the other end of the phone.

“John?”

“Yup,” comes the strangled reply.  “Still here, just…” 

Another pause, the sound of a few deep breaths, and then…

“Right, who is in charge of this investigation?”

“Err…” Bruce looks towards the policeman.  “Sorry, who are you?” He asks the man.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

“Ok, he’s Detective Inspector Lestrade,” Bruce tells John.

“Excellent,” the doctor says, though his tone suggests otherwise.  “You pass him the phone and tell him John Watson needs to speak with him.”

Bruce does so and Lestrade’s eyes widen comically and he practically snatches the phone from Bruce.

“John?  What’s going on?  Why are they calling you?  Where have you been for the last year and a half?”

The Avengers don’t even try to pretend that they’re not listening avidly to the half of the conversation they can hear.  How does this guy know _their_ John?  Unfortunately they aren’t able to figure out much as the conversation immediately switches to the crime.  When the detective hangs up he looks them up and down, as though seeing them for the first time.

“John’s convinced me to give him an hour to sort this out.  So while we’re waiting you can tell me how the hell you know John Watson.”

They spend forty-five minutes in sulky silence before they’re rescued.  They refuse to tell Lestrade anything apart from “John works for _us_ now.”

Lestrade looks close to throttling one of them when a tall man dressed in a smart suit and carrying an umbrella walks regally through the doorway as though he owns the place.

“Good evening,” the man says politely, sitting down next to Natasha.  He doesn’t give the Avengers more than a quick glance.

“What are you doing here Mycroft?” Lestrade grumbles, and the name rings a bell with the Avengers.  Natasha’s eyes narrow as she studies the man sitting next to her.  Something tells her this man could very easily be a dangerous enemy.

“I’m here because I got a call from John Watson.  He asked me to look at this shambles.  Obviously the Avengers didn’t do it.  One minute at the crime scene was enough to tell me that.”

“You actually went to a crime scene,” Lestrade chokes.

“I know,” Mycroft sniffs in disgust.  “Legwork.  However I am now able to collect a favour from both Nicholas Fury and John Watson so it may be worth it.”

Tony isn’t sure if he wants to giggle at someone calling Fury ‘Nicholas’ or growl protectively when the man mentions John owing him a favour.  He doesn’t like the idea of the doctor owing this snake anything.

“As I was saying, they obviously had nothing to do it.  The bodies of the parents and sister had been dead for almost twenty-four hours, when the Avengers were in America with an alibi.  The only person who had died in the right time frame was Mr Moncur.  Then there were the photos.”

“Photos?” Lestrade questions dumbly, sparing any of the Avengers from doing so.

“Yes.  Aside from the obvious fact that Mr Moncur doesn’t look genetically related to the others, there are no photos of him with the others in the sitting room.  There are pictures of the girl with her parents but only solo photos of the boy.

“Adrian Moncur doesn’t exist.  He is a very well created hoax.  However while Thomas Wister was very good at creating his new identity, he was careless when deleting his old one.”  Mycroft handed some files to Lestrade.

“Also, your tip off came from the neighbours across the road, but the Campbells are currently in Florida.  Disneyland I believe.  This entire thing is a set up.  Mr Wister and some accomplices lured the Avengers over here and murdered the Moncurs, then when they knew you were coming Mr Wister allowed his accomplices to shoot him and then the accomplices broke into the house opposite and tipped off the police.”

The effort that’s been put into discrediting them is astounding.  It keeps them all quiet as Lestrade and Mycroft sort out the paperwork.

“I guess you’re off then,” Lestrade comments to Mycroft once everything is settled.

“Actually, I thought I’d wait and say hello to John.  His train should have just got into Euston.”

All the Avengers can feel their hackles rise. 

“You will not harm John Watson,” Thor stands up to properly show off his height and bulk.

Mycroft laughs.  “I have no intention to.  After all, I am particularly concerned with his safety.”

“Why?” Clint practically growls.

“He was my brother’s best, and some say only, friend.  You could say that I need to look after him for the sake of my brother.”

Thor remembers the conversation on brothers he had with John and does not feel comforted.

“Yes, well…” Lestrade can feel the tension rise and is anxious to keep the room intact.  “Perhaps you can tell me where John’s been.”

“He’s been in America, where he has been hired to look after this lot.”

“I guess he’s had a lot of practice with difficult people,” Lestrade snipes, and the Avengers would take offence if they didn’t catch the subtle dig aimed at Mycroft.

“I’m presuming you’re not just talking about Sherlock.”  Mycroft seems unaffected.  “But yes, I did think he would be perfect for the job.  It’s why I accepted it for him.”

The Avengers are loathe to think that they might have to be grateful to the man for something other than getting them off a murder charge (besides John called the man, so technically it was all John).  Fortunately the man they all know, and want to know how he knows everyone, bursts in.  He’s panting and out of breath, although after a quick glance around the room he lets out a sigh of relief and bends over, hands on knees, to catch his breath.

“You could have called me to let me know it was over Mycroft.  The traffic’s awful, I got out the cab and ran the last stretch.”  He glares at the man in question, glances briefly at Lestrade, before smiling widely at the Avengers who grin happily back.

Tony wraps the small man in a hug.  “You’re not allowed to leave us alone again.  Ever.”  He’s only half joking.

Lestade awkwardly clears his throat.

“Good to see you again John.”

“Greg,” John acknowledges and the two stare at each other for a moment before awkwardly shaking hands.

“How long are you in London for?”

“A couple of days,” Mycroft answers for him before John can even open his mouth.

“Actually,” Steve cuts in.  “We’re heading back to America.”  He stands firmly behind John, obviously including him in the ‘we’.

“Of course you’re not.  I’ve already cleared it with Nicholas.  John can’t possibly go just yet.  He hasn’t seen Mrs Hudson and we must all have lunch tomorrow.  Consider it repaying the favour.”

There is an awkward silence where the Avengers glare at Mycroft and John looks put upon but entirely too used to having his life run by someone else.

“Well, if you’re around for a bit then we should go the pub sometime.  Catch up.”  Lestrade sounds as though he’s not sure how well his invitation will go down.

“Sure,” John sighs.  “I’ll give you a call.  But I think I’d better get these guys out of here.”

John shepherds the Avengers out after Mycroft lets him know that a car will collect them at noon tomorrow for the promised lunch. 

“Food,” John insists once they’re all outside, breathing in the cold air.  “Italian.  I know a place.  Then I’m getting you all to bed.”

They all nod wearily and allow themselves to be herded away from the Yard by their doctor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return everyone knew was coming, and the one time the Avengers were there for John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. Final chapter! It's been amazing you guys and I hope you enjoy!

By the time they’d eaten their mood had picked up ever so slightly, though Tony felt that was mostly because they’d been treated to the sight of John being tackled into a hug by the owner of the restaurant and cried over as he awkwardly patted the owner on the back.

They got free food too, which made them feel slightly guilty given how much they could eat.  They let Angelo take a picture of them eating so he could attract customers with it.  Tony wouldn’t have normally agreed to this, but he was warmed by the fact that they didn’t eat free because they were the Avengers.  They ate free because they were John’s friends.  That made all the difference.

John had booked hotel rooms for them on the train and they all sleepily shuffled towards the subway.

“Sights tomorrow morning?” Bruce suggested.

“I’d better visit Mrs Hudson, my old landlady.  She wouldn’t forgive me if she found out I was in town and didn’t visit.”

John did not sound too enthusiastic about the visit.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked him worriedly. 

“Nothing.  I just haven’t been to Baker Street since…”

The others realised what he was trying to say.

“You’re technically still renting the place, aren’t you?”  Natasha asked him.

“Yup.  I just couldn’t give it up.  Pathetic, I know.”  John laughed hollowly.

“Definitely not,” Thor boomed, clapping the smaller man on the back and almost sending him face first into the pavement.

“Perhaps you should go there now,” Natasha suggests lightly, though her eyes are focused sharply on John’s face, waiting for his reaction.  When he scrunches up his face, obviously about to brush the idea away, she quickly intercedes.  “You need closure.  Spend the night in _your_ flat with your landlady.  You’ll regret it if you go back to New York having not even been in your old home.”

They all watch anxiously as John considers this.  A part of Tony wants to kick Natasha and get her to shut up.  What if John doesn’t want to leave when he sees his old home?  But he can also see her logic.  Poor John has looked older and more miserable than they have ever seen him since being in London.

“Alright,” John eventually agrees.  “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.  Why don’t you come over to Baker Street for breakfast?  You can see the old place.”

They all agree and watch as John turns and stalks away, his shoulders hunched and his hands buried deep in his pockets.  They hope they’ve encouraged him to do the right thing.

They realise how wrong they were the next morning.  When they knock on the door to 221B Baker Street and introduce themselves to the landlady, Mrs Hudson, as John’s friends, she looks delighted.

“Is John just coming then?  The poor dear!  He wasn’t the same after Sherlock… well.  Let’s just say it was a good thing he got that fancy job in America.  I was so worried about him!  He was just sitting all alone in a dreary bedsit with nothing to do.  We were close to putting him on suicide watch.”

They were forced to cut off her tirade, not just because they’ve had a startling insight into John’s state of mind when he first started working with them (and they all feel a flash of horror and guilt), but also because she’s under the impression that John’s with them when he should be with her.

“Didn’t John come over last night?”  Bruce tries to remain calm. 

“Oh no dear.  I was at Bridge Night with Mrs Turner until eleven and then I came home and went straight to bed.  No one was in the building.  It’s an old building, noise does travel.  You can always tell when someone else is in.” 

Panic is beginning to settle in.  John is not in Baker Street.  It looks like John never arrived at Baker Street.  Many not good scenarios are running through the Avengers heads and they almost sprint away from the door and back down the street.  Steve has the sense to shout an apology at Mrs Hudson, who looks like she’s used to this sort of thing.

Tony has his phone out and is talking to JARVIS as they come to a stop around the corner, realising they have no idea where to run to, just that they need to find John.

“Well?” Clint snaps at Tony.  “Where is he?”

“Hold on! I’m trying.  This will only work if he used the deodorant or aftershave I gave him.  It’s fitted with nanotrackers.  I’m testing them,” he explains to the Avengers.  They all wonder if John knows he’s a test subject and decide that if this works then they just might not tell him.

“Got it,” Tony crows, and they’re off.  Diving through London’s traffic, almost getting run over when they look left instead of right as they cross the road. They reach the river bank in record time and elbow their way into the casino Tony assures them John is in.  Men in black suits and a familiar smug face greet them.

“Ah,” Mycroft greets them smoothly.  “I thought you might turn up.  No need to panic, we’ve got everything under control.”

“Where’s John?” Clint demands at the same time Steve asks, “What happened?”

“John was abducted by a rather unpleasant fellow, Sebastian Moran.  Our security cameras went down around Baker Street last night.  It wasn’t hard to deduce who the target was.  From there it was a simple matter to find him.  I have an agent in the basement working on his release as we speak.  So if you could all just stand back.”

Yeah right.

Thor elbows Mycroft out the way, sending the man skidding, as they all rush towards the basement, shoving anyone who gets in their way.

Three people are waiting for them, or rather two people and a body.  A large muscled man is lying face down on the concrete floor, a bullet having gone through his brain.  After they take that in their eyes are immediately drawn to John.

Thor lets out a roar of distress.  John is shirtless and bloody.  He has bruises forming all over his face and chest, a few knife cuts are clearly visible on his chest and they haven’t checked his back yet.  He’s shoeless and sockless so they are able to see the rope burns around his ankles and wrists and he has backed himself into a corner, looking in horror at the third man in the room.

This man is tall, thin and with a mop of dark curly hair.  He is moving anxiously towards John who flinches back as the man reaches out.  The Avengers don’t wait for an explanation before Tony, Steve and Clint forcibly tackle the man to the ground before he can touch _their_ John.

“Who are you?” Tony demands as he grinds his elbow into the ribs of the tall man.

It’s Natasha who answers, and her voice could stop a death ray in its tracks.

“He’s Sherlock Holmes.”

“Yes,” John whispers, and his voice is hoarse and heart-breaking.  His eyes never leave Sherlock’s face as the man gazes up at him from underneath three Avengers.

“John,” Sherlock wheezes as the air is slowly squeezed out of him.  “I’m back, John.  Please…”

John looks away with a choking kind of sob and tries to stand, but his leg gives out on him and he lets out a strangled yell.  Thor is immediately there, holding the doctor up and trying to sweep him off his feet, though John is trying to resist. 

Bruce is over almost as quickly, running his hands down John’s leg, looking for a wound.

“It’s psychosomatic,” John grinds out.  “It’s in my head!  Ahh!”  The leg gives way again when he tries to put weight on it and Thor accepts no protests this time when he swings John up into his arms, making the small man seem even smaller in his massive grip.

“John,” Sherlock has fought his way out from under the three Avengers, who all eye him warily.  “We need to talk.  Send them away.”

They are all suitably outraged, but it is John comes to their defence first.

“No!  You don’t get to decide this Sherlock.  I mourned you for the last two years!  You let me believe you were dead and then you just turn up and want to talk?  You just expect me to send the people who I’ve spent the last year and a half with away so you can talk?”

“John, I had to do it.  Moriarty has snipers fixed on you.  Molly and I planned my death so-”

“You let Molly know but not _me_!  I thought it was my fault!  That I should have done something to stop you jumping.  You let me blame myself for two years!”

John is gesturing frantically in Thor’s arms, aggravating his injuries.  When he starts sobbing after the last part of his rant, Thor decides he’s had enough and sweeps out of the room.  Bruce quickly follows and Clint reluctantly goes after them.  Sherlock is left facing three pissed off superheroes.

“Stay away from him,” Natasha growls.

“He will have to talk to me eventually.”

“Haven’t you done enough?” Steve asks him.  “Leave him alone.”

“I’m his friend!”

“He’s with us now,” Tony grinds out.  “And he’s staying with us.  You don’t get to have him back.  Especially when you threw him away the last time.”

“I didn’t-”  Sherlock isn’t allowed to finish that sentence as the three Avengers sweep out of the basement and back up the stairs.

Outside the building they find John and Bruce sitting on the pavement, Bruce’s jacket around the doctor’s shoulders.  John is staring blankly at the tarmac in front of him, not reacting when they all crowd protectively around him.

“Thor flew off with Clint to get the jet.  We can get out of here soon.”  Bruce tells John this, but it’s more for the others benefit.  They all unanimously agree to get John back to America as soon as possible and away from the man who wants desperately to keep him in Britain.

In the distance Sherlock and Mycroft are talking, Sherlock gesturing their way and looking pissed and Mycroft making placating gestures. 

When Clint and Thor arrive with the jet Bruce and Tony quickly hurry John inside, one arm each wrapped around his shoulders, their other arms underneath his legs.  This snaps John out of his stupor for a moment, and he makes vague protests about being able to walk as they carry him onto the jet.  Natasha quickly joins Clint in the pilot’s seat while Steve takes one final glance around to make sure they haven’t missed anything.

“We meant to break it to him gently over lunch,” Mycroft comes up to talk to him.  “However, the Moran situation got away from us.”

Steve just glares at the smartly dressed man.  Mycroft continues on regardless.

“I realise you want to get him back home, but if you could just let Sherlock explain now, or perhaps he could come over in a few days and-”

“No,” Steve tells Mycroft firmly.  “That isn’t up to him.  _If_ John ever wants an explanation then he knows how to contact you.  You and your brother are not to come near him or speak to him or contact him in any way until then.  You’ve both done enough damage.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“You were going to break it to a man over lunch that his best friend, who he thought was dead, was alive and kicking but hadn’t thought enough of John to tell him.  You were going to tell John that the last two years he’d spent mourning had all been for nothing, after his friends had at one point considered putting him on suicide watch!  What is wrong with you?”

Steve means to leave, but Mycroft clears his throat delicately.

“There is the matter of the favour you and John owe me for the situation yesterday.  If you would just let Sher-”

Steve punches him in the jaw.

“We owe you nothing anymore.”

He doesn’t hang around and the moment he is on the jet, the doors close and they take off into the air.

John is quiet the whole way back.  Thor won’t let go of his hand.

It is a subdued party that arrive back at the Avengers Tower.  Fury is waiting for them, but Natasha and Clint must have filled him in when they were in the air, because he takes one look at John, still shirtless and shoeless, looking about a decade older than when he left, and Fury quietly gestures for them to take the doctor to his room and quietly lets himself out.

The Avengers spend the next two weeks hovering anxiously around John, while trying to appear that they’re not.  They don’t comment when he appears the morning after they get back, looking as if he’s had no sleep and with a cane in his hand.  They do their best not to watch as he limps slowly around the tower, face lined with pain.

Each Avenger does their best to cheer him up.  Thor watches all of Blackadder and Father Ted with John, Clint makes the man endless cups of tea while Steve cooks all the doctors favourite meals.  Tony knows he’s bad at the comforting thing and so gets Pepper round to do it for him, but he does make sure that JARVIS turns off John’s alarms whenever the man finally gets to sleep.  Natasha and Bruce do their best to coax John out the flat to restaurants and cinemas.

None of this seems to work as well as Fury’s idea, which is to pile on the paperwork and act as though John isn’t sinking into a pit of depression.  This at least gets John up and doing something without the Avengers having to coax and encourage.

Throughout the two weeks the tower is constantly hacked and broken into by a dark-haired figure.  Tony takes great delight in stopping him before he can either get to or talk to John.  It’s driving Holmes crazy and Tony relishes his triumphs with glee.

However it can’t go on.  Eventually it is Thor who calls the Avengers together while Fury distracts John with a three hour budget meeting.

“We must let the detective speak to John Watson,” he announces to the group, not bothering with niceties.

“Yeah, how about, no.”  Tony immediately shoots down the idea before anyone else can.

“John Watson confided to me that he feels hurt that Sherlock Holmes has not attempted to get in contact with him to explain.  He is now feeling abandoned as well as angry.  I realise we thought it was best to keep the two separated, but John Watson now needs… Lady Jane called it ‘closure’.”

Thor’s words are solemn and heartfelt, and Bruce, Natasha and Steve reluctantly see the sense in what Thor is saying.

Tony and Clint aren’t convinced.

“That’s all very well,” Clint says.  “But Holmes isn’t just going to give him closure.  He’s going to try and convince John to go with him.  No way am I letting that bastard get him back.”

“But John has a three year contract,” Natasha cuts in.  “He won’t break that.”

“And after that’s finished?” Tony crosses his arms.

“We convince him to stay with us,” Bruce gives them a smile that resembles a rather evil smirk.  “We have a year to convince him and show him that he’s better off with us.  He’ll be in America, working with us.  Sherlock Holmes will be able to visit occasionally at most.”

The odds appear to be in their favour. 

“Oh, alright!” Tony relents.  “But if we lose him to Holmes I’m blaming you,” he points at Thor.

The next day they arrange for John to be in the kitchen as Steve and Clint make a pot of tea for two and set out a plate of biscuits.  Natasha, Bruce and Thor hover around the doctor, making sure he has no reason to leave the kitchen.

“What’s going on guys?”  John is not quite with it this morning.  After the budget meeting Fury took him out to get drunk and had to haul the doctor back to the tower.  The Avengers had been furious with the Director and he called them all mother hens. 

“We just want you to know,” Natasha grabs his hand.  “That whatever happens we are here for you.”  She kisses his cheek as the rest head towards the elevator.  It pings and Tony pushes a dishevelled Sherlock in as the Avengers clamber into the elevator to go watch the entire conversation in Tony’s workshop.

As the door closes they hear Sherlock breathe the word “John!”

‘Game’s on buddy’ Tony thinks grimly. 


End file.
